


Veto

by TrippingHazard



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Whirl-Typical Violence?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 14:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrippingHazard/pseuds/TrippingHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whirl is told he's out of the Wreckers and he doesn't take it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veto

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know much about what happened in canon between the end of Last Stand of the Wreckers and the start of MtMtE, but this is what I imagine happened with Whirl after Roadbuster veto'd him.
> 
> Welcome to my first attempt at writing fanfiction. If you spot any grammar or spelling errors, please feel free to point them out.

“Excuse you?” Whirl asked, clicking his claws together threateningly, “Didn't quite hear you. Thought for a second you said I was out of the Wreckers. But that’s ridiculous, so you must have said something else.”

Perceptor sighed, and behind him Roadbuster shifted slightly, preparing for a fight.

And a fight was what he was going to get, if he didn’t take that back.

“You heard correctly, Whirl,” Perceptor said in his stupid calm science voice. “Roadbuster has called for your removal, and, given your actions yesterday, we support him. You are henceforth no longer a member of the Wreckers.”

Whirl tilted his head back and forth, clicking his claws together more quickly as he processed this. The others in the massive conference room watched him, Perceptor and Drift impassively, Roadbuster staring at him with barely contained fury. Kup hadn't even bothered to show up.

In the end he didn't bother trying to defend his actions or convince them to give him another chance. He just started shooting.

They’d been expecting it, of course, but sometimes Whirl didn't mind being predictable. He’d make them regret thinking they didn't need him.

Besides, predicting that he’d react badly wasn't the same as predicting his exact reaction. They'd been expecting him to go for Roadbuster, the source of his rage. Instead, he shot Drift square in the chest, while he was only half way through the act of drawing his swords.

He saw Perceptor darting out of his field of vision and was forced to flick his head back and forth quickly to keep an eye on both him and Roadbuster, who was simply charging him. It was easy enough to avoid the lumbering, flightless soldier. He leapt backwards, tumbling into his helicopter mode, and darted up and to the side. He couldn't see Perceptor any more, but he tried to get behind Roadbuster so the sniper didn't have a clear shot. The room wasn't large enough for him to really cut loose in an aerial battle, but there was just enough room to manoeuvre.

A bullet pinged through his rotor anyway, stalling it and leaving him listing to the left. He over-corrected and veered sharply to the right, crashing into Roadbuster's shoulder. The huge soldier swivelled and tried to punch him out of the air, but he dropped back out of his alt-mode and gravity helped him avoid the blow. For good measure, he fired a burst of high calibre bullets from both guns as he fell, and heard Roadbuster swearing, falling back a step or two.

Whirl caught a glimpse of Perceptor standing several meters behind Roadbuster, on the far side of the massive conference table. The sniper was lining up another shot. Whirl snarled and launched himself forwards, hitting Roadbuster squarely in the chest. Perceptor's shot blasted through his lower leg, but didn't hit anything vital.

Roadbuster, still off balance, swung wildly for Whirl as he staggered backwards. He managed to catch Whirl around the middle, and despite a brief burst of gunfire from Whirl, Roadbuster managed to get a good grip. Still stumbling backwards, he hurled Whirl into a wall at the far side of the room.

Whirl hit it head first, and slid down to land upside down on the floor, where he got to see the magnificent sight of Roadbuster tripping over the conference table and falling backwards, arms windmilling, and Perceptor scrambling to get out of the way.

Even if they eventually won the fight, that sight would have made it all worth it.

However, he didn't really want to lose, so he flopped sideways and managed to get his feet back under him. He took aim at Perceptor and tried to shoot him before he got his bearings after almost being squashed by Roadbuster, but a clicking noise drew his attention to an unpleasant pain radiating from his chest, and he looked down. He couldn't actually see his guns past his cockpit, but a quick pat-down with his claws let him feel the crushed metal at their base. Damaged. Well, that made this slightly more challenging.

Perceptor was marching towards him with a particularly no-nonsense expression on his face. Whirl looked around for something he could use as a weapon, and his single eye fell on Drift, who had fallen against the wall not far off and was steadily bleeding to death, energon dripping from a whole in his torso and pooling on the ground.

His swords were still half-drawn.

Whirl half limped, half hopped over to him, and dragged one of the swords out of its sheath.

By this point, Perceptor had vaulted onto the table and was halfway across it. He levelled his sniper rifle again. “Whirl, do not move. Stand down.”

Whirl narrowed his eye and shifted from leg to leg. Definitely having trouble getting his right leg to support him. Stupid Perceptor with his stupid sniper rifle.

“Gonna shoot me, Percy?” he asked. Without a face he couldn’t actually sneer, but he hoped Perceptor picked it up from his tone of voice.

“Yes, if I have to,” the sniper answered calmly.

“Well, better get ready then.”

Whirl jumped from one leg to the other again, then launched himself forwards by kicking off the wall with his good leg. Perceptor fired again, but his shot went slightly wide; he’d been expecting Whirl to jump at him, but instead the helicopter slid along the floor and disappeared under the table.

He skidded out the other side, where Roadbuster was just hauling himself to his feet, and shoved Drift’s sword into the back of Roadbuster's neck. The huge soldier roared at him and tried to grab him, but suddenly his limbs weren't working. He fell back, twitching and shouting very rude things. “Language, language,” Whirl tutted.

Then there was a cracking noise and the sword was wrenched from the admittedly tenuous grip of his claw.

Perceptor was kneeling now, and had taken careful aim while Whirl was gloating. Did he seriously just shoot the sword out of his hand? Whirl felt annoyed by that somehow. It was unnecessary showing off, in his opinion.

“That was your last warning, Whirl. Next shot goes through your brain module.”

“Alright alright. Fine. You got me.” Whirl stood as straight as he could, and held his claws over his head.

Perceptor relaxed a fraction. “Good. It’s over, Whirl. Move back against the wall.”

Whirl complied quite happily. At this point, moving further away from the table suited him perfectly. Once he was as far away from the table as he could get, back pressing up against the wall, he gleefully turned his claws slightly so that Perceptor could see that he was holding something.

“What is that?” the sniper asked warily.

“Oh, just a trigger.”

Perceptor didn't quite manage to shoot him before he clicked his claws together and the grenade he’d left under the table went off.

The force of the explosion tossed Perceptor across the room, and even the massive Roadbuster was tumbled away. Even Whirl was flattened against the wall momentarily.

Once the ringing in his ears died down and the smoke had cleared enough for him to see, he chucked to himself. “You shoulda' seen the look on your face, Percy. Weren't expecting that, were you?”

He picked his way over the remains of the conference table to where Drift had slumped over and grabbed his other sword. Time to make sure Perceptor was proper dead.

He wasn't, yet. He was even still conscious, trying to drag himself to his sniper rifle, which was several meters away. This was hindered somewhat by the fact that he was missing both legs from the knees down, and was peppered with shrapnel.

Whirl put his left leg--the one Perceptor had shot--down on the sniper’s back, and lined the sword up.

“Whirl, you can’t…” Perceptor started, but his voicebox gave out into static halfway through whatever he was going to say. Which was fine, because Whirl didn't care what he had to say.

He was just about to strike when another voice interrupted him. “Whirl, you need to stop.”

He glanced around to see that Drift had come to. He wasn't moving, but he was staring intently.

“Oh really? And why should I do that, _Drift_?” He added as much hatred into the word as possible. “Let me guess. Because it’s the right thing to do? Because he’s your friend? Because you want me to stop?”

Whirl thought he saw Drift roll his eyes. “No, Whirl. You need to stop because I radioed Ultra Magnus. He’s on his way.”

And then it really was all over.

Whirl didn't bother finishing Perceptor off. He tried to make it to the door, to escape before the Enforcer got here, but he was too late. When the door slid open, Ultra Magnus came through at a dead run. Whirl put up a token battle, but it didn't matter. Nothing he did would make a difference, at this point.

The sword was ripped from his claw, his arms were wrenched behind his back, and his claws were quickly cuffed together. He didn't really listen as Ultra Magnus told him he was under arrest, or what he was under arrest for, or as the Enforcer gave him a lengthy lecture about his behaviour on the way to the cells. He saw Ratchet and Fixit running past in the direction of the conference room, each carrying medical equipment. They ignored him.

And then he was in jail again. Ultra Magnus took the cuffs off when he was safely in his cell, and informed him that Ratchet would fix his injuries as soon as the Wreckers were stabilised. Whirl still wasn't really listening, but he nodded when Ultra Magnus asked if he understood. He didn't, but he pretended to.

Just before he turned to leave, Ultra Magnus sighed heavily. “Whirl, I am very disappointed. You were doing so well.”

Whirl clicked his claws together erratically as Ultra Magnus disappeared down the corridor, and his eye flickered on and off. There was a large crack in it that he hadn't noticed before. In fact, now that he was alone with himself, he suddenly noticed a lot of small, painful injuries, mostly self-inflicted from the explosion. He shifted uncomfortably.

He really wished Ultra Magnus hadn't said that last bit.

 


End file.
